


you got a look in your eyes

by windingwoods



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Multi, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windingwoods/pseuds/windingwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Green Oak first started college he was expecting certain things. He was expecting classes with teachers from hell and subjects from the deepest parts of it, all-nighters that would feel and taste and probably even smell like desperation, some trouble with laundry as a concept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you got a look in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> okay this is actually way less detailed than it should be so random lore time!! blue is majoring in law, yellow in art and sabrina in psychology. she actually met red like that and got dragged into the group, poor child.  
> the johto kids attend the same highschool the kanto ones went to and they've all known each other for quite a long time.  
> that said have a nice reading!

When Green Oak first started college he was expecting certain things. He was expecting classes with teachers from hell and subjects from the deepest parts of it, all-nighters that would feel and taste and probably even smell like desperation, some trouble with laundry as a concept.  
What he certainly wasn't expecting was to end up sharing a dorm room with Red and all of what sharing a dorm room with Red would entail.  
"What. What _is_ this."  
His voice sounds dulled to his own ears, his mind too busy trying to process the wasteland spreading out in front of him to care about anything else.  
Red looks sort of sheepish, almost sorry as he shuffles towards Green and water sloshes around his ankles.  
"I think I left the water running," he starts, tentative smile, antsy fingers.  
"You think."  
"Yes. And then I fell asleep and this, uh, well."  
Green takes one more look at the wasteland, then up to Red's face, Red's eyes.  
"Okay, get me a mop." Maybe he can fit this into the 'trouble with laundry' cathegory.  
  
.  
  
He likes computers, for computers don't talk and when they do it's in default beeping sounds and strings of data, objective truths he knows how to read, how to deal with.  
People were expecting him to pick veterinary science ( _Look at you, the spitting image of your grandfather!_ ) but there he is, majoring in programming, wrapping himself up in wires, in codes.  
Sometimes Red likes to sneak beside him, warm and human and unpredictable, eyes glued to his work with the sleepy kind of amusement he shows whenever he's in front of something that doesn't really concern him.  
He asks questions too, from time to time, because he is Red and can only stand something not concerning him for a certain amount of time. (Sabrina says he's nosy, Blue says Sabrina sounds fonder than a grandma when she puts her heart into it.)  
He hardly ever understands Green's explenations but he still comes back, still warm and human and unpredictable, and Green still makes room for him.  
  
.  
  
Red studies psychology. He's observant and good and sometimes Green feels genuinely terrified that he might see right through him, even though Green himself has no idea of what would he exactly see.  
"You're kidding yourself." Blue's voice is cold, devoid of any possible sympathy, a black hole roaring open right in front of him. She's genuinely terrifying as well, only in another way, the way wild animals are.  
"How so?" he offers, knows best not to oppose her when she's glaring at him like she might throw a shoe at his forehead.  
"You _know_ what he would see and you know he probably will never notice unless you spell it out for him."  
There's a small, choked noise right next to them, Yellow pointedly staring at their cup of coffee like it's the most puzzling thing they've ever come across.  
"That... might be true, I'm afraid."  
Blue snickers, the creeks in her brow smoothing down just enough for Green to feel like it might be safe to breathe again. "Speaking from experience, are we?"  
Now Yellow snaps back up, vibrant red on their cheeks, vibrant green in their eyes.  
"We don't speak of that! We had an agreement we wouldn't speak of that!"  
Blue's snickering turns into laughter, loud, booming sounds that make her shoulders shake. She's got quite the ugly laugh when she's like this, lips twisting her cheeks in unapologetic hollows, eyes going darker, but Green prefers it to her other kind of laugh, the one that's bare teeth on bare silence, the one that could slice through anything.  
Yellow is probably the same since they're not even bothering to look offended, just mildly embarassed.  
When Blue calms down there's the faintest hint of sadness mudding her eyes.  
  
.  
  
"You know she worries about you." Sabrina is sitting on the edge of the fence behind him, her legs swing back and forth like a metronome. She makes a face, then adds, "in her own way, that's it."  
She's only known Blue for a handful of months but she knows what to look for and Green doesn't exactly dislike the way she pierces right across all the glitter and fanfare Blue keeps throwing around herself.  
"I mean." Now Sabrina's voice is getting quiet, her legs still, a sculpture. "How long has it been like this? Middle school?"  
Green nods, grimaces. "Second year of middle school."  
"And you're still like this."  
He doesn't look at her, doesn't look at anything at all.  
"And I'm still like this, yeah."  
  
.  
  
Sometimes, when he's tossing and turning and it's late at night, his mind slides back to the day Blue held his hand.  
In his memories she's tiny, small frame, smaller smile, whirlwinds shaking down her knees. She had studied his fingers one by one, had studied the way hers fit in between, the shape they made.  
Then she had dug her nails into his palms, her teeth into her lip.  
"I really like girls," she had said, and Green had held her hand back.  
They still do that from time to time, still slouch against each other, shoulders bumping till they somewhat fit, Blue's thumb tracing habits on Green's wrist, reading secrets in Green's pulse.  
  
.  
  
Green prefers not to ask himself how has his room ended up a shelter for pretty much every single person he knows, it’s better not to think about stuff like that too much when Red’s involved.  
He keeps telling himself that as Gold accidentally squashes his face with his foot for the third time, or as Blue and Red throw popcorn at each other (most of it ends up on the floor, or on Green) with close to no respect for whatever tv series they’re supposed to be having a marathon of.  
Actually, Green gets the feeling Silver and Crystal might be the only ones who ever pay any attention to these things, big eyes never leaving the screen, mouths hanging open.  
They’re still in high school but they probably make it up for all the maturity the people around them seem to have lost somewhere along the way and Green likes that, likes the way they watch over each other, over all of them.  
He likes the way Crystal’s voice sounds whenever she’s scolding someone, peaks and valleys of endless patience, or the way Silver’s mouth curls up if he’s with Gold or Blue, how at peace he looks.  
Nights like that are not that bad in the end, not even when Yellow and Red fall asleep like stones, sink deep against Green’s side.  
  
.  
  
One of the worst things about living with Red (Green has a list, he's graded it all and keeps it updated) is that he's one of those people who can't deal with fatigue.  
When Red's tired he starts giggling at whatever thing passes through his mind, his already poor thoughts-words filter and perception of personal boundaries completely tossed down the drain.  
Blue calls it Red's personal brand of getting drunk, Green calls it hell.  
"Don't you find it sad?" Red sounds too close, face smashed against Green's back, nose pressing right between his shoulderblades. "Birds have no arms, man. That's..."   
A pause, head spinning in search of that one word that sounds about right. "Unfortunate."  
"They have wings though," Green tries, because he always does, even when their conversations are just hauling stress out, aimless small talk that keeps whirring in place.  
Red hums in distaste, tugs at the hem of his sleeve.  
"Wings don't have hands, birds can't _hold hands_."  
Green thinks about how would it be to hold hands with Red, about warmth and hard ground and faraway possibilities.  
"That's really unfortunate."  
  
.  
  
He shouldn't be here. He's got a midterm in two days and god knows he shouldn't be here, in a theatre, watching Sabrina perform.  
He should be studying, maybe even pulling an all-nighter in the quiet of his room, coffee steaming by his side and his textbooks towering above him like impending death.  
"Will you stop looking like you've just chewed on a lemon for once?" Blue's voice is a hiss, glare more intimidating than any possible textbook could ever wish to be. "You might unsettle the actors."  
Green risks a huff. "Are they endangered faun— Ouch! That _hurt_!"  
"You'll be the next endangered fauna if you don't clap till your hands are bleeding when they're done."  
So he does clap, he claps as Red jolts up when it's Sabrina's turn to get her share of applause, claps as he watches him holler and grin, claps because the play was actually so good Yellow didn't even fall asleep once.  
They don't bring Sabrina flowers but they buy her drinks, spin her around, shower in words that make her ears go pink.  
"This has been a good night," Red says, elbows on the counter, faint smile ghosting all over his face, and Green can't say no when he asks him for a dance.  
They've danced together before, danced to all sorts of things, danced to make their feet ache and their legs go numb when they were children, slower as they got to grow up.  
Now they're dancing the slowest, kind of just swaying in circles, Red's waist soft against Green's palms, his hands heavy on Green's neck.  
Red mumbles something, Green can't quite catch it.  
  
.  
  
Yellow loves to use him as their model, they say he has a talent for standing still.  
"Your deadline's getting closer, right?"  
He knows how to recognize the signs, knows the way Yellow's fingers get restless, bits and stains of any possible colour, black under their eyes and nails.  
"It's fine, I'm on time! Just." A yawn, long and quiet, drawn out like the sea lapping at the shore. "A bit tired."  
Green shrugs, the only bit of moving he's allowed to make when he's posing and Yellow's short on sleep.  
They don't speak much, lazy silence floating around them, the kind of silence Yellow always brings along, nice and comfortable.  
"You know, I think he likes you back."  
Green gapes, air getting stuck down his throat, stomach crumbling on itself. "You _what_."  
Now Yellow's looking at him funny, mouth a thin line as sharp as Blue's. (It's the kind of expression they only make at Lance and he nearly feels offended for one second, just nearly.)  
"I think," they spell out, slowly, voice raising because they know Green doesn't want to hear this and know that he's wrong about it, "that you might have a chance, but you don't even want to try."  
Green swallows, shrugs again. "The standing still business, I guess."  
  
.  
  
"You've been staring at your laptop for five hours straight." Red's voice reaches his ears muffled, dimmed by the desperation his finals have dumped him in. "It's kinda creepy, even for your standards."  
Green knows he has no chance but to force himself to look at him (or else Red will keep bugging him until he's got what he wants, any possible dirty trick allowed) and so he does, vision still blurred from the computer screen.  
"What's that supposed to mean."  
Red flashes him his brightest smile, waves a hand with the same levity Blue uses when she's sure she'll get away with it. "Nothing at all."  
It only clicks for Green now, how close they are, elbows brushing together, Red's legs against his own. He thinks he could count Red's eyelashes like this, could press their foreheads together and kiss whatever bit Red's face he can reach.  
He also thinks studying must have fried his brain and that he should leave, spread miles between the two of them, but he stays still, they both do.  
Then Red flicks him in the nose.  
  
.  
  
They end up tiptoeing around each other after that, tentative touches and looks that feel like trying to reach for something in the dark.  
There's something like longing in the way Red smiles; it echoes down Green's skull, pulls and pushes at his bones, compass needles scraping his ribs.  
He finds Red napping in his bed one day, sits on the edge and waits, lets an arm sneak around his waist and tug him down, closer, a sheepish apology about dirty sheets hanging between them.  
Green accepts it with a huff, then turns to where Red is and the compass needles go haywire, a jab in the gut, Red's eyes bigger than he's ever seen them, closer than he's ever dreamt them.  
Something inside him makes a noise and Red snorts, fingertips pressed against his own. "Classy."  
Now it's Green who snorts, brushes a little closer. "Look who's talking."  
He's still laughing when Red kisses him, they both are and Green nearly chokes, the years he's spent waiting blown away like dust from his joints.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'avalanche', by walk the moon


End file.
